


Hypnotizing Dr. Banner

by slashyslash



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brian Banner's A+ Parenting, Bruce Banner Has Issues, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Hypnotism, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Poor Bruce, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-19 21:43:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5981869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashyslash/pseuds/slashyslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to keep the Hulk away, Bruce goes to therapy to deal with his anger, and Tony tags along. When Bruce has trouble opening up, the therapist suggests hypnosis. Sitting in on the hypnosis sessions, Tony quickly learns that his friend's past has not been all sunshine and roses. In fact, Bruce has no good memories to look back on, so Tony takes it upon himself to make some happy memories for his buddy. Along the way, Brucey lets his guard down and the two become increasingly close, eventually becoming best friends. Oh yeah, and this will surely end with them making out. So... best friends with benefits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fine. Normal. Nothing to talk about.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my FIRST EVER fanfic, so please tell me if I've tagged it wrong or anything.

It was totally unheard of, Tony knew, to sit in on someone else's therapy session. But he was only there because Bruce had cornered him just before it was time to go and begged him.

“Would it be weird if you... um... came to the appointment with me?” Bruce had asked.

“Yes, that would be extremely weird,” Tony had answered, working on an upgrade to the Iron Man suit and not really thinking about what his friend was trying to say. “It's therapy, Brucey. You go in alone, spill your guts to some creep who delights in getting the dirt on all your neuroses, then pay him exorbitant amounts of money to tell you you're not crazy. Or... maybe you are crazy, but pay the quack again next week and he'll pretend to fix you.”

“Jeez, Tony, it was your idea I go to this guy in the first place. I thought you said he was the best.”

“Oh, yeah, whatever. The point is, it's not couple's therapy.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Bruce had shifted uneasily then, his hands fidgeting like he was nervous as hell. “But do you think you could you come with me, anyway? Please, Tony. I'm kind of scared to go alone. Please?”

Tony had never seen him vulnerable like that before. He usually was very closed off, not letting anyone get too close, not even letting Tony touch him, which he was constantly trying to do: for some reason he couldn't quite explain, he found it impossible to keep his hands to himself when his little buddy was around. Well, maybe they weren't exactly buddies yet, since Bruce ignored him most of the time. Anyway, Tony couldn't say no to that worried, pleading face. He had told him right then he would go to all his therapy sessions with him, if that's what he wanted.

***

So there they were, with Dr. Jerome Goldstein, Tony's own therapist and the man he had recommended for Bruce's little problem, in the room in which Tony often spent time talking through his issues, only this time Tony sat in a white-and-beige speckled armchair while Bruce took the long couch meant for patients to stretch out.

“You know, most people who visit me like to lay down on that couch,” Dr. Goldstein said, gesturing. “It's very comfortable and puts them at ease.”

“I'd rather sit, thank you,” Bruce said stiffly, perching on the edge of the thing like he thought it might blow up.

“Tony has told me a lot about you,” Dr. Goldstein continued. “All good things, of course.”

Bruce shot Tony a look that said, “That is so not cool.” Tony just shrugged and smiled a secret smile. He had told the therapist how his only reason to get out of bed some days was to make the little guy breakfast. He felt protective of him for some reason – Bruce just gave off a vibe that said he needed protecting – and that gave him a reason to keep going when he thought he should just give up. He had to take care of his Brucey.

“Why don't you start by telling me why you're here and what you hope to get out of our sessions?”

Bruce looked down at his foot pushing against the spotless beige carpet. “I'm getting... irritated... over little things lately. Taking that irritation out in ways that are, I guess, destructive. I'd like to be able to control myself a bit better.”

Tony tried to hold in his laughter, but it came out in one big, “Ha!” and both doctors shot him sharp looks. He couldn't help it, though: the thought of the Hulk's rages as mere venting over irritation was hilarious! The truth was, they were here because Bruce had been Hulking out a lot over little things. It was getting far beyond his control, and he was scared. And Tony was scared, too; he kept having to suit up and hide in his bedroom to protect himself from the green guy's tantrums.

“The first thing we must do,” said Dr. Goldstein, “is to explore exactly what is bothering you. It may not be as simple as you think. A rage explosion over a traffic jam, for example, may say more about one's past than it does about one's current situation. Let's start by going back to your childhood...”

Blah, blah, blah. Tony started tuning them out, gazing at his fingernails, oily and cracked from working on his suit. Should he get a manicure, or was that too girly? Hmm... He reached for a pen on the doctor's desk. Oh good, it was a clicky one. He clicked it in and out, slowly until he got into a good rhythm, then sped it up – click-click-click, clickety-click, click-click-click, click.

“It's just that I – oh, for fuck's sake, Tony, cut it out! -- It's just that I don't have anything to say because I don't really think about it much. You know, there's nothing really to say, I guess. It was fine.”

Tony stopped clicking and tuned back in. “Don't think about what?”

“Ugh, I wasn't talking to you,” Bruce groaned with exasperation, rolling his eyes. “Why would you assume I was talking to you?” 

“See? This is why he's here, Jerome. So touchy.”

Dr. Goldstein ignored Tony and went on, “So nothing in your childhood that you feel we should address?”

“Nnnope.” Bruce drew out the word for emphasis. He was leaning back into the couch now, arms folded against his chest, face tight. He looked like he could use a massage, Tony thought, and he would gladly be the one to rub those tense shoulders. “Like I said, my childhood was fine. Normal. Nothing to talk about.” 

***

They left without him really saying anything much. Tony knew that was often the way with therapy in the beginning. It could be hard to open up to a stranger.

That night, he poured himself a scotch and knocked on his buddy's bedroom door. 

“You want me to come with you again next week?”

Bruce looked away before mumbling, “Yeah,” and shutting the door again, shutting Tony out like he always did.

***

But the next week he still had nothing to say to the therapist, couldn't think of anything that was bothering him, and had nothing to say about his past except that it was “fine” and “just a regular childhood, like everybody has.” Only, when Dr. Goldstein asked, he couldn't answer what kinds of things went on in a regular childhood like everybody has. (“Oh, you know, like... the stuff you see on TV shows...”) The same happened the next week and the week after. It was at the end of that fourth session that the therapist suggested hypnosis to jog his memory and break him out of his shell. He also suggested that Bruce might be able to open up more if Tony didn't tag along.


	2. The Principal's Office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go with the hypnosis... This chapter got pretty dark. I happen to like dark, but I hope it's not too much. Enjoy, and I look forward to reading your comments, everyone! Also, I learned how to do italics, yay!

“What if the... _other guy_... comes out while I'm under?” Bruce whispered.

Tony was with him in the waiting room. Even though he wasn't supposed to go in this time, Bruce had asked him to drive him to the therapist's office and wait for him there, and Tony wasn't about to say no to his adorable friend in need.

“Won't happen,” he answered. “You'll be totally relaxed.”

“Still... I don't like this, Tony. I'm kind of freaking out right now.”

Just then the office door opened and Dr. Goldstein stepped out. “Come on in, Bruce.”

To Tony's surprise, Bruce grabbed his arm and pulled him up with him and toward the door. “He's coming with me.” Then, seeing that Dr. Goldstein was about to refuse, he added, “Just for the hypnosis.”

The doctor nodded but gave Tony a pointed look. “As long as you don't distract him,” he warned. “That means no pen clicking, Tony.”

It took some coaxing to get Bruce relaxed enough to take off his coat and shoes, and lie down on the couch. He looked very stiff and uncomfortable. 

Dr. Goldstein began by having him focus his eyes on a spot of light projected on the ceiling. He spoke in a slow, dreamy voice that made Tony feel like he might fall asleep himself. He looked at Bruce, wondering if it was working. Well, he didn't look so uptight anymore, but not sleepy either. He just looked bored.

“You can feel your whole body relaxing...”

He looked cute over there on the couch, his toes wiggling a bit in his white athletic socks – the kind of socks Tony would only wear with gym gear, never with a collared shirt and khakis, like Bruce was. It may not have been fashionable, but it was endearing, sweet. He had an urge to go over there and get on top of him on the couch, push his fingers through those curls...

He snapped out of his daydream when he saw Bruce's eyes droop, droop, and close. Tony was stunned – the guy was out cold, from tense to totally relaxed in minutes.

“I want you to go back,” the doctor was saying, “all the way back to the house where you grew up. Remaining very relaxed, I want you to stand outside that house and look at it. Can you see it?”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded far away, like he had really gone somewhere else.

“Tell me what it looks like.”

“Peach stucco with a brown roof. Medium sized. It looks like all the other houses on the block, except the garage door is all banged up from when my dad crashed into it one time. There's a small yard in front, and a cement walkway.”

“Okay, Bruce, now I want you to go inside the house and tell me what it looks like in there.”

There was silence. Tony saw Bruce's face twitch and tighten. His hands, folded on his stomach, tightened also and he began twisting his fingers together.

“Are you inside the house, Bruce?” asked Dr. Goldstein.

“No. No, I don't want to go in there.” He pressed his lips together and began to whimper.

“What are you feeling right now?”

“I'm scared. I don't want to!” He shook his head vigorously, eyes still closed.

“Bruce, listen to me. You're safe now. There's nothing to be scared of. Now, I want you to go to a time when you were inside that house.”

“Please, don't make me go in there!”

Tony gripped the arms of his chair, knowing he wasn't supposed to interrupt the session. But Bruce started whimpering again, and he couldn't hold back any longer. 

“What's going on, Jerome?” he asked, panicked. “Why is he so upset?”

“That's what we're trying to find out.”

“No!” Tony jumped up from his chair. He couldn't let this go on. There was that protective feeling again. “He doesn't want to remember that.” He lifted Bruce's feet up, half hoping it would wake him – it didn't – and sat down on the couch, resting his friend's feet on his lap. He pushed one pant leg up and examined the skin, just in case, pushing back the dark hairs with his hand. No green. “Quit asking him to go in the house, Jerome, or I swear I'll drag him out of here still under your voodoo spell if I have to.”

“Okay,” Dr. Goldstein relented.

_That's right. Fucker knows I'm the one paying for the sessions,_ Tony thought, furious that the doctor had pushed his buddy so far. 

“Perhaps we should start with something lighter. Bruce, tell me what school was like for you.”

Bruce stopped whimpering and Tony, gently rubbing the legs draped on his lap, felt the tense body relax once more.

“I like school,” Bruce started happily. “I'm good at it, smart. But the other boys pick on me because I'm a nerd and no good at sports.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Dr. Goldstein nodded and jotted something down on a pad of paper. “Did you ever stand up to the bullies?”

He smiled, looking like he was smiling in a dream. “Yeah, one time.”

“Go to that time, and tell me about it.”

There was a pause, then Bruce began slowly, “I'm eleven years old. We're playing baseball for gym class. I hate it because every time I'm up to bat all the outfielders move in real close. They're just doing it to tease me, though; they know I'll never hit the ball anyway. I strike out like always, and everyone's laughing, saying I swing like a little girl. The teacher doesn't even stop them.”

Tony rubbed Bruce's legs a little harder, anger bubbling up inside him at those boys.

“How do you feel hearing the boys laugh at you like that?” Dr. Goldstein asked.

“Embarrassed. Angry. I still have the bat in my hand. I can hear this gross snorting noise behind me. Oh god, someone just spit on the back of my neck.” He shuddered. “I'm at my breaking point. I spin around and smack the kid right in the shoulder, as hard as I can. How's that for swinging like a little girl?”

“Hmmm...” murmured Dr. Goldstein, writing in his notes. “Now what's happening?”

“They're taking me to the principal's office. Mr. James, he's our principal; he's really nice, so I'm not scared.”

“How do you feel about hitting that boy?”

“He had it coming, the little shit.”

“You're in the principal's office now. What is he saying to you?”

“He says Marty's really hurt – that's the kid I hit. He says I'm suspended and he'll have to call...” Bruce interrupted himself with a low whine. Tony felt his body seize up, then start to tremble. “Don't call him, please... Oh god, don't call him.”

“Who? Bruce, who is the principal going to call?”

Bruce began shaking harder and his voice became frantic. “Please, Mr. James, you can't tell him what I did! Please! You don't need to call him, I can walk home!” He was shouting now, begging, sweat beading up on his forehead.

“Bruce, wake up.” Tony shook his legs, trying to bring him back, but it didn't work. “Bruce, come on! Wake up!”

“Please, Mr. James, let me stay with you! Don't let him come get me!”

“Wake him up!” Tony shouted over Bruce's cries. “Wake him up now, goddammit!”

Dr. Goldstein had to get close to Bruce's ear in order to be heard, but he kept his voice calm. “Listen to the sound of my voice, Bruce. On the count of five, I am going to clap once, and you will wake. One... two... three...”

Bruce was still begging, writhing around on the couch like he was having a nightmare, and Tony was getting kicked like crazy, but he didn't care.

“Four... five.” _Clap._

Bruce opened his eyes slowly. He sat up, shaking and sweaty and looking like he was in shock. 

“You okay?” Tony breathed. He realized he was shaking, too.

“Um... I think so.” 

He brought his head down to lean on Tony's shoulder, but kept the rest of his body about a foot away. Tony longed to put his arm around the little guy and comfort him, but he respectfully kept the distance Bruce had set between them. It wasn't like him, to respect Bruce's boundaries – usually he thought boundaries were made for pushing – but this time he knew he'd better behave for Brucey's sake.

When Dr. Goldstein asked him to leave so he could talk to Bruce, he felt like refusing.

“Come on, Jer, he needs --” he began, but stopped himself. He knew Bruce didn't want to need him. He left and sat in the waiting room.

When his buddy came out at the end of the session, Tony could tell by his red eyes and sniffling that he had been crying. His curly hair was still damp from sweat, and he was looking at the floor, not at Tony. Tony, unable to help himself, got up from his chair and tried to slip an arm round his shoulders, but Bruce shrugged him off and headed for the elevator without speaking.


	3. You Look Hot with Your Clothes Ripped Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, and happy Valentine's Day! Get ready for Tony to take things a tad too far, some more angsty feels along the way, and some sweetness to bring it on home. No hypnosis in this chapter, but that will begin again with more extra-lovely memories of Brian Banner in Chapter 4. Enjoy!

Back at home, Bruce stopped speaking to Tony. Although there was plenty of room to be alone at Stark Tower, especially since Pepper had left for good after a big fight, the science-loving boys shared a lab and often ate meals or watched movies together. Bruce was usually quiet, ignoring Tony or, if he was in a good mood, talking a little about work and smiling at Tony's jokes. But this was different. In the three days since the last therapy session, he hadn't spoken a word. He moved through the lab with his eyes lowered, never meeting Tony's gaze, only nodding or shaking his head when necessary. 

Tony soon decided he'd had enough of that.

Swinging open the door to the lab where he knew Bruce was working, he got right to the point. “So it's your dad, right?” It was less of a question and more of an announcement. “He abused you, and fucked you up for life and now you're taking that shit out on me.”

Bruce looked at him for the first time in days, anguish in his big brown eyes like a wounded animal, a look that pleaded for him to stop. But Tony couldn't stop now, he was just getting started. It didn't help that he'd just had a few drinks.

“If your piece of shit dad was still alive, Bruce, I swear I'd kill him with my own bare hands for what he did to you, and that includes the fact that you're damn near impossible to live with because of that jerk.”

“You don't even know what he did to me, Tony,” he mumbled, turning back to his work on the screen in front of him.

Tony strode over to him. “Listen,” he said, grabbing his friend's arm.

Bruce tensed and pulled away, backing toward the wall. Tony was suddenly aware of the very real danger that his buddy was about to hulk out and it would be all his fault.

“I don't like to be touched, Tony,” he said, his voice still stable. “So... just... watch yourself, alright?”

“I know exactly what he did to you.” Tony took a step back to give him his space, but he wasn't willing to back down until he had got this off his chest. “He turned you into this.”

“Into what?”

“You know what I mean, Brucey... the Hulk.”

Bruce laughed dryly. “What the hell are you talking about, Stark? You know about the Gamma radiation: it was an accident, an experiment gone wrong, nothing to do with my dad.”

“Come on, man, don't try to tell me you don't see it.” Tony ventured a step closer. He felt he could lessen the blow of what he was about to say next, if only he would let him get close. “With all the pain you went through – whatever that pain was – you were already transformed into a big ball of rage, weren't you? The Gamma radiation just took that already existing ball, grew it giant, and turned it green.” He took another step closer. “And, of course, as a happy side effect, it makes your clothes rip off every time, which is incredibly hot – have I ever told you that?” 

Bruce raised his eyebrows and smirked. “You got all that from thirty seconds of screaming under hypnosis? That's real good, Tony. But you don't even know that it was my dad. You don't know what happened to me,” he went back to where he'd been working and studied the screen intently, “and I don't want to talk about it.” 

“Well, I've got news for you, then: you _have_ to talk about it.”

Bruce looked up again, calmly amused. “Or what, you're gonna make me? Go ahead and try.”

“No. It's just... you...” He faltered, feeling awful at what he'd implied. Of course he wasn't going to make him! If Bruce even thought for a second he would try to fight him then Tony was failing at what he desperately wanted, which was to be the one Bruce could turn to for comfort and protection. “I just can't stand you moping around here anymore. Why can't we be buds?” 

He paused, hoping for an answer, but didn't get one. 

“That wasn't rhetorical, you know. Look, okay... dad's are shit, alright? We can agree on that; that's just the way it is sometimes. And I know it was your dad that hurt you, Bruce, buddy. I can see it in your face every time I try to touch you and you pull away. But you can talk to me about it, and I'll be there for you, because I know what that's like.”

Bruce scoffed. “Oh, _you_ know what that's like, do you?”

Tony nodded, not sure why the little guy was being so hostile about it.

“So you know what it's like to have someone beat the crap out of you every day, then send you off to school the next morning with rehearsed lies about where your injuries came from? You know what that's like? You know what it's like to run and hide in a closet whenever you heard his car pull up? You did that, too? No, wait, you wanted your distant father to spend more time with you, you wanted to feel loved. Well, all I wanted was to survive the fucking night!”

As he said those last two words -- “fucking night” -- his voice turned to a deep growl. He was changing. 

“Oh, shit.” Tony put his hands up in the surrender position and backed away as he watched his friend fall to his knees, his head in his hands, struggling to fight off the monster. His skin had a greenish tinge. “Bruuuce...” he said worriedly, feeling around behind him for anything that could be used as a shield. “Come on, Bruce, baby, keep it together.”

Bruce roared and dug his fingers into his scalp. His arms and chest began to swell, tearing his shirt.

“Now, I know I said it was hot when your clothes ripped off, but I think in a different context it might be more --”

“Shut up!” His voice was husky. He was very close to being fully Hulked out, but he was still fighting.

“-- arousing,” Tony finished. “Okay, look. Look at me, buddy. See, I'm not even summoning the Iron Man suit. We're gonna keep things calm, cool. I'm your friend and you are still Bruce Banner, not the other guy, and I'm totally... totally... not... freaked out right now.” He tried to keep the tremble from his voice. “So it's just me and you. Just me and you, pal. Let's juuust keep it cool.”

He could still see Bruce in there, so he told himself that it would all be okay if he could just keep talking. _You've got that gift of gab for a reason, Tony,_ he thought. _Use it!_

“I'm gonna take care of you, Bruce, you hear me? I'm a man of my word, and I am promising you, _right now_ , that I will always be right there with you. Okay? No one's going to hurt you ever again because you've got Iron Man protecting you now. You don't even _need_ the big guy anymore. Bruce? Talk to me, buddy, I know you're still in there.”

And it worked. He breathed an audible sigh of relief as the growing body before him softened, the colour fading to a pale green tint. Slowly, the Hulk let go and Banner took control again.

“T-Tony?” His voice was back to normal. “You'll come with me again next time, right? To therapy?” He let out a small laugh. “'Cause I think I really need it.”

Tony laughed too. “Yeah, buddy, you really do.” He crossed the room and sat beside him on the floor. “And you're damn right I'll come with you. You think I'd let fucking Jerome hypnotize you unsupervised? He'd probably end up making you his sex kitten.”

They both laughed. Then Bruce did something unexpected. He moved closer and nuzzled his head into Tony's chest.

“Oh,” said Tony, not sure at first what to do with his hands, then hesitantly lifting one to touch those curls he'd wanted so badly to touch. He still wasn't sure why he felt this way – it wasn't like he was into guys or anything. But there was something about Bruce. “Oh, okay. This is... something we haven't done before. This is nice, Bruce, we should do this more often.”

“Hmmm,” Bruce answered pleasantly. 

Tony draped his arm around Bruce's shoulder and pulled him even closer, fingering that warm skin through the holes ripped in his shirt, combing the fingers of his other hand through the dark mat of sweaty curls. “Mmmm... we should have a sleepover tonight in my room.”

“You're pushing it, Tony.”

“Okay, I'll shut up now.”

So he just sat and enjoyed the moment, wishing it would never end.


	4. Monster Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, a bit sore from all the feels in this chapter! Dark again -- for those, like myself, who wouldn't have it any other way :) Enjoy!

At the next therapy session, Tony sat on the couch next to Bruce, and Bruce didn't object. Dr. Goldstein wanted to take things slower, focusing on good memories before attempting to face the more upsetting ones.

“A lot of my patients undergoing hypnosis enjoy going all the way back to a time when they were young toddlers. Often I will have them remember what it was like to be safe and cozy in their crib. The crib signifies security for many people. Why don't we start there for you, Bruce?”

He shook his head vigorously, avoiding both Dr. Goldstein and Tony's gaze. “No, no not my crib. That was not a safe...” He trailed off and started fidgeting, twisting his hands together in a tense manner.

Tony put his hand on Bruce's shoulder, and he didn't pull away.

“Relax,” Tony whispered, wondering what could have happened in his crib so terrible that he still remembered it all this time later. On second thought, he wasn't sure he wanted to know; it would probably break his heart. “You don't have to do it.”

Dr. Goldstein wrote a note in his book. “Let's try something different, then,” he said. “I want you to think back to your favourite birthday. How old were you turning?”

Bruce thought about that for a few moments. “Seven,” he decided. “That's the year I got my Gilbert Chemistry Set.”

Tony grinned. “You had one of those, too? I loved mine! Of course, I got mine when I was four. By the time I was seven I had graduated out of the toy sets and was on to the real deal. But I was always advanced for my age.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Well, weren't you Mr. Child Prodigy? Or maybe just Little Mister Privileged. Anyway, how old were you when you dissected your first foetal pig? I was--”

“Boys,” the doctor cut in, “this is not a competition. Now, Bruce, lay down and get comfy.”

He began the hypnosis, once again having Bruce stare at the light on the ceiling as he talked him down. Tony resisted the urge to massage the feet on his lap. He wanted his friend to get the most out of this, and it was already shaping up to be a more positive therapy session than last time, so he didn't want to cause any distractions. 

As the doctor's voice droned on, Bruce adjusted his position on the couch, causing his feet to push at, then slide up, the legs they rested on. As the slight pressure on his crotch caused a small involuntary thrust of his pelvis, Tony wondered again what exactly this feeling was. All he knew was he wanted to do something crazy, like rub himself all over Brucey. That was a normal feeling to have for a guy pal, right?... Right?

Bruce was asleep now, and Dr. Goldstein told him to go back to that birthday when he turned seven. “Are you there now?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “I'm waiting for my friends to get here. Mom has something to give me first. It looks amazing – wrapped in rocket ship paper with a red ribbon and a bow. I'm so excited! I'm opening it... it's the Gilbert Chemistry Set I wanted!” Even in his trance, his face lit up with joy. “Mom hugs me, but not too tight 'cause she's always careful. Now the guests are arriving. There's Jimmy and Dalton and Ricky – kids from the neighbourhood – and Jason from school.”

Tony liked seeing the smile on his face as he relived that special day – the games they played, the decorations and snacks his mother had put so much time into. 

“My mom baked a cake, but I haven't seen it yet. We're all waiting at the table for her to bring it out and start singing 'Happy Birthday.' I hope it's chocolate. But... she's not coming out. We've been waiting for a long time. So... I'm going into the kitchen... maybe I shouldn't go in there, though.” 

His breathing was getting faster. 

“Dad's been drinking the whole time... he's pretty drunk. And he's in the kitchen and I can hear him telling mom we shouldn't be celebrating. He's saying... um...” Bruce's voice broke. “He's saying it's nothing to celebrate when a monster is born. He's pushing her up against the counter and then he... he throws the cake down on the floor. It's all over the floor and I'm crying. I can't stop crying.”

“Okay, Bruce,” Dr. Goldstein interrupted, “I want you to remember that you're here in my office. Everything you see is from your past, and it's over now. You got through it.”

“And remember I'm here with you, bro,” Tony put in.

Dr. Goldstein shot him a look. He knew that look – it was a “don't talk you're not the therapist” look.

“He says stop crying, but I can't stop. I _can't_ stop, Daddy, _please_. He says to shut up, shut the fuck up, and then... he's picking me up. I'll be good, Daddy, don't hurt me!” Bruce threw his hands up to his face as if to cover his eyes and block out what was coming next. “I hit the wall. Everything is fading out. I think he threw me.” 

There was a long silence during which Bruce's hands fell away from his face and his whole body lay completely limp, one arm dangling spaghetti-like from the side of the couch. He was reliving being knocked unconscious. 

“When I count to five and clap my hands, you will wake up feeling refreshed.” The doctor didn't sound very convinced of his own words. “One... two... three... four... five.” _Clap_.

A pause, and then Bruce opened his eyes, and Tony could breathe again finally because he had thought going unconscious during hypnosis might mean you couldn't wake up.

“You okay, buddy?” 

He tried to touch Bruce's leg, but he pulled away and lay with his knees curled up to his chest, burying his face in his arms. 

“Hey, come on, talk to me,” Tony said, his words sounding too hard in the quiet room, like a demand.

“I don't like getting hurt,” came the muffled words from the trembling little ball at the other end of the couch. He sounded like a child.

“I know.” Tony was silent for a moment, watching the doctor take notes. “There's one thing I don't understand, though.”

Bruce didn't look up. “Yeah?”

“How in the fucking crazy hell was that your favourite birthday?”

Bruce moved his arms away from his face and turned to Tony with a halfhearted smile. “I got the chemistry set, didn't I?”

Then Dr. Goldstein shooed Tony out of the room and into the reception area where he waited for his friend, wondering what the other parties might have been like, if there even had been any others. He hoped Bruce would let him give him a hug when he came out.


	5. Am I a Monster?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this story is making me a bit sensitive -- cried while reading my son Winnie the Pooh tonight. Well, I held back the tears, but my voice was cracking all over the place. Tonight, though, Bruce just can't hold back the tears anymore, and he's really needing some Tony love :)

Bruce didn't let Tony hug him after the session, and when they got home he mumbled that he was going to take a shower and didn't appear again for the rest of the afternoon. At seven o'clock, Tony knocked on his bedroom door.

“Bruce? I made shawarma.”

Silence.

“Okay, so I put ham in pitas, but it's still really good. Did you know there's nothing in this house for roasting meat on a stick? We really need to get a rotisserie; maybe I can make one. With turbo power boosters. Bruce? Are you coming out of there for dinner or do I have to eat alone like a bachelor?”

He stuck his ear to the door and heard footsteps. Then the door slowly opened and Bruce appeared with a book in his hand. 

“You are a bachelor, Tony,” he said. “Anyway, I'm not hungry. I'm just going to read some more and then go to bed. Maybe I'll see you in the morning.”

 _Not this again,_ Tony thought. It was shaping up to be one step forward, two steps back. All he wanted was for Bruce to let him be his protector; after all, he was Iron Man, wasn't he? He was the best protector America had ever seen! Bruce had let his guard down before and they had had that excellent snuggle, so why not now? Maybe he just needed to be affectionate on his own terms. 

Tony worked on a new suit before going to bed that night, hoping it would take his mind off domestic issues. But as he lay in the dark, trying to force himself to sleep, all he could think about was little Bruce getting beaten, and how he would love to just scoop him up in a massive hug and tell him it wasn't his fault, if only Bruce would let him.

He must have finally fallen asleep, because he found himself waking to the sound of J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice, sounding all too chipper for the middle of the night.

“Sir, Dr. Banner is standing outside your room, and he has been for quite some time.”

“J.A.R.V.I.S., tell me something, and this is incredibly important: what ungodly hour are you waking me up at?”

“It's 3:34 A.M., sir.”

“Fuck,” Tony groaned, pushing his face into a pillow. “Are we talking puny Banner or big, green, ragey Banner.”

“Puny Banner, sir. He looks like he wants to knock, but can't quite get up the gumption to do so. Shall I tell him to hit the road, sir?”

“No!” Tony jumped out of bed, adjusting himself in his tight black boxer briefs. If it wasn't the Hulk, here to attack him, then what could Bruce be doing outside his room? A rush of excitement went through him, though he wasn't really sure what he was hoping for. “Just, give us some privacy, Nosey.”

“As you wish, sir.” 

Bruce, wearing only a pair of grey-and-white pyjama pants, jumped when Tony opened the door. “Oh! Jeez, Tony, you almost gave me a heart attack.” He ran a hand through his mussy curls. “Um... I know it's super late, but... I, uh, I wanted to ask you something.”

Tony didn't say anything.

“Um, Tony? Are you even listening, or are you just gonna stare at me?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said, snapping himself out of it. “I just never realized how... hairy you were. Why don't you come on in and you can ask me... that... question.” He felt all flustered – goddamn that Banner was hot.

He motioned for Bruce to sit on the bed and he sat next to him, their bare arms so close to touching that the space between them felt warm and electrified.

“Tony,” Bruce began, eyes on the floor as usual -- _I definitely need to teach him how to own a room,_ Tony thought -- “when you said before that I was a... a ball of rage... even before the accident... what... um...” He trailed off.

Tony tried to make eye contact, but Bruce's gaze didn't shift from a spot between his feet. “Is there a question there, or...?” 

“Sorry, this is just hard for me. What I'm trying to say is, do you think I'm really a monster? Even without the other guy?” He shrugged as if he was trying to look casual, but there was pain in his eyes. “You know... like my dad said I was.”

“At the birthday party?”

He shook his head. “All the time, always. He was right, wasn't he? Is that what you meant when you said I'd be like this even without the other guy?”

Tony's heart hurt suddenly, and he immediately looked down at the glowing power source in his chest to make sure it wasn't malfunctioning. Nope, that wasn't it. “Brucey, look at me.” He was almost choking on the words. “I would never lie to you, so what I'm about to say is absolute truth, okay? Cross my heart and all the metal in my chest.” He waited for his friend to nod before continuing. He said the words slowly, deliberately, “You are not a monster. You were hurt badly, but that doesn't mean _you're_ bad. You are Dr. Bruce Banner, one of the greatest guys I know, and you may not believe this but I totally look up to you.”

Bruce's face crumpled a little as he looked up with tears in his eyes. He looked to Tony like an innocent little boy who's just been forgiven for some mistake. “You mean that?”

Tony gave him a meaningful look. “Come on, would I really bother lying to you? Trust me, I don't do flattery unless it's deserved.”

That's when Bruce broke down and started really crying. He threw himself into Tony's arms so hard he nearly knocked him over, wrapping his arms around his waist like a football tackle, his body convulsing with sobs.

“Ssshh,” Tony soothed, running his fingers through his hair, “it's okay. Here, lie down, lie down.”

He lowered him to the mattress and positioned a pillow under his head, then tucked him in and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand gently caressing his shoulder.

When he had settled enough to talk, Bruce asked, “Aren't you going to sleep here, too?”

“Oh, uh,” Tony sputtered, “I- I thought... Are you sleeping... here?”

“If that's okay.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And is it okay if you sleep with me? I just... don't want to be alone right now. And that was nice when you were... you know... holding me.”

Tony felt all sorts of things as he slid under the covers and wrapped his arms around Bruce, pulling him close until he felt his friend's hairy chest against his own smooth one. One of those things was confusion. But the thing he felt most of all was a loving protectiveness for his little buddy who needed him so much. He played with his hair and watched him fall asleep in his arms.

Bruce slept like a puppy, all curled up and twitchy, whimpering often and kicking his feet. It kept Tony awake, but he didn't care. At the sound of his morning wake up call he muttered, “Shut up, J.A.R.V.I.S,” and nestled closer to the sleeping beauty beside him for another solid hour of cuddling.


	6. A Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote half this chapter last night when I was a little drunk, and half today when I'm a lot sick (not hungover or anything, just a terrible sore throat my body had been fighting but decided to let it take over today). So I hope it meets the same standards as the other chapters. At least, being sick, I have an excuse to hole myself up in my bedroom and write while someone else watches the kids :)

“We're playing a game.” Bruce's voice was thick and distant, as if he were talking in his sleep. “It's a hiding game.”

Dr. Goldstein had asked him to go back to a time when he had been alone with his mother and having fun, at Tony's request – it was a demand, really – that Bruce not be forced to bring up any more of the abuse until he was feeling more at ease with the therapy. Tony wasn't sure if it was more for Bruce's comfort or his own, but he knew the memories just had to be good this time. 

“Where are you, Bruce?”

“We're in the neighbour's shed. Mommy's holding me. She says don't make a sound 'cause the bad man's coming. She says it's a hiding game,” he repeated.

Tony felt himself bristling. He had an irrational urge to blast the doctor with some sort of ray.

“Get him out of there,” he ordered.

“Tony--”

“No, Jerome, we both know where this is going. The bad man's his dad, they're hiding because he's gonna beat them, and blah, blah, blah, the abuse fucking continues. Damn it, didn't I tell you it's good memory day, Jer? I want to hear about road trips and days at the beach, not cowering in a shed. Move on to another memory or I'll do your stupid little count-and-clap and wake him up myself.”

During this exchange, Bruce remained silent but with his mouth screwed up tight and a pained expression on his face. It didn't look like the hiding game was so much fun anymore. 

Dr. Goldstein agreed to switch to another memory. “Okay, how about the beach?” he asked, taking Tony's suggestion. “Did you ever go to a beach with just your mother?”

“Not a beach... a lake, though.”

“Okay,” said Dr. Goldstein, “go to that time at the lake, just you and your mother, and tell me all about it.”

Bruce smiled as he remembered. “Oh, yeah, it's great here. The water's warm and I'm swimming. And dad said we could go, just for the day, so he won't even be mad when we get home. We're surrounded by trees; I feel like no one will ever find us – it's just... freeing.”

“That sounds like a wonderful day, Bruce.”

“It's perfect. We packed a lunch, too, and Mom says it's time to eat. So I come out of the water and just let myself dry in the sun at our picnic table.”

Tony watched the smile fade.

“What are you doing now?” Dr. Goldstein asked, pencil poised above his notepad, obviously noticing the change in Bruce's expression. 

“I'm eating my peanut butter sandwich. A lady is standing beside our table. I don't know her. She says something not nice to Mom.”

“Bruce, I want you to focus on that lady. What is she saying?”

Tony put his hand in the bottom of Bruce's pant leg and traced his fingers up and down the warm skin, hoping to be some comfort against whatever was coming next.

“She sounds angry. She's saying, 'Is this your son? I could see it from all the way over there. Why does he look like that? Ma'am, you'd better cover that boy up before someone calls the police on you.'”

“What is she referring to?”

“Well, I'm just wearing shorts, so... uh... it's the marks on me, I guess. Dad beat me last night, so of course there's a lot of belt marks.” 

_Of course._ Tony was glad Bruce's eyes were closed so he couldn't see him cringe at the thought.

“Mom tells me to put on my shirt. Then she changes her mind and says we better leave because my legs are pretty banged up, too and I don't have long pants to wear. She's really sorry, though. Really.”

The look on his face was utter disappointment. Not even a day at the lake could work out for him. Didn't he have any happy memories that didn't end in pain? Tony wished he didn't even know that the legs he was touching now were once covered in red and purple welts. 

He shot a look at Dr. Goldstein, who sighed in resignation and said, “Let's leave the lake now and move on to a happier time. Have you gone on any other trips with your mother?”

There was silence for a moment, then Bruce replied, “Yeah. Yeah, she took me in the car.”

The doctor flipped to a new page in his notebook and said, “Okay, let's explore that. You're in the car with your mother, going on a trip. Where are you going?”

“I don't know, but she says we're leaving forever this time. She's not going to let Dad hurt me anymore.”

Tony brightened. Bruce had never spoken to him about how the abuse finally stopped. He knew Bruce's dad was dead now, but maybe he and his mother had escaped even before his death. This sounded promising.

“It's nighttime,” Bruce continued. “We thought Dad was asleep, but... he's not. He's opening the car door and pulling her out.” 

Suddenly, he stopped talking and began to whine, long and low like a distressed animal, shaking his head slowly from side to side as if saying no to the memory. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and Tony could see that he was fighting to hold back his emotions, just like he did whenever... oh, shit. Tony knew what was coming: the Hulk!

“Wake up, Brucey,” he said, frantically, “wake up, now!”

The green was starting to creep up around his collar and into his cheeks. 

“Tony, he's fine,” Dr. Goldstein said calmly.

“No, you don't understand, Jerome. Wake him up or we are all totally fucked!”

“Tony, just let me do my job, okay?”

The doctor wasn't going to be any help, so Tony jumped into action, hurling himself on top of Bruce, straddling his midsection and shaking him by the shoulders. He sure hoped he could snap him out of it, because he didn't want to be in this position when the Hulk came out. “Wake up! Come on, Brucey! One-two-three-four-five!” he shouted quickly, clapping his hands.

It worked. Bruce opened his eyes, and they were green. But they faded back to their usual deep brown when he saw Tony's face above his own. Tony breathed a sigh of relief: he was still sweet little Bruce, with no sign of the rage that would bring on the big guy. In fact, there was no sign of any emotion at all. He squirmed out from under Tony and pulled himself to a sitting position, his face blank.

“He killed her, Tony,” he whispered. He laid his head on Tony's chest and sank into his arms. “Do you believe me?” 

“Yeah,” Tony fought back his own rage, “I believe you, buddy. And I'm going to make things better for you from now on. I promise.”

He held him close until Dr. Goldstein told him it was time to leave the room.


	7. Splash War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's ready to make some really good memories for Bruce to look back on. Prepare for sweetness and awww's :) Also, I decided to put everyone in this chapter.

Tony had an idea. As soon as they got back to Stark Tower, he got to work. Since Bruce didn't seem to have any good memories, he was going to start making memories with him. They would do all the nice, normal things that Bruce should have been able to do as a child. But first, of course, he asked Bruce if he wanted him to stay home after such an emotionally draining therapy session.

“No,” Bruce replied quietly, “I think I just need to be alone for a while. I'm exhausted.”

So Tony left, heading into the city centre where he could shop. There he found a store selling swimwear and bought two pairs of swim trunks. He also took a moment to ogle the female mannequins in their skimpy bikinis. _See_ , he told himself, _I still like girls._

When he got back in his car, he checked the weather report and called the whole team, as well as Rhodey and Happy, and told them where to meet the next day.

He stayed awake that night, listening for movement outside his bedroom door, asking J.A.R.V.I.S. every once in a while, “Is that Banner I hear out in the hall again?” trying hard to sound annoyed, rather than hopeful.

J.A.R.V.I.S's response each time would be, “There's no one in the hall, sir.” And once he added, “Perhaps you are hallucinating from lack of sleep?”

“Don't mock me, J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony answered. “Just wake me if he comes.” 

But he never came.

In the morning, Tony jumped out of bed, feeling like it was Christmas morning. He couldn't wait to see the look on Bruce's adorable face when he told him what he had planned. He was in the middle of making omelets for breakfast when Bruce padded into the kitchen, yawning, still in his pyjama pants and a t-shirt. A bit modest, as far as Tony was concerned, but he knew he'd get to see that furry chest later.

“Hey, bro!” he said cheerfully. “Guess what we're doing today?”

“Coffee first,” Bruce muttered, yawning again. He wasn't a morning person.

Tony poured him some coffee and handed him an omelet on a plate. He waited patiently while Bruce settled at the table and took his first few sips.

“Alright, alright! Tony, do you even realize you're, like, inches from my face and grinning like a maniac? Just tell me what we're doing and quit hovering over me.”

“We're going to Lake George!”

Bruce gave a sceptical look. “Okay, that's a three hour drive, Tony.”

“I know!” Tony enthused. “Road trip, buddy! But honestly, we both know it won't take three hours at the speed I drive.”

Bruce still didn't look like he liked the idea. “Well, I don't even have a bathing suit, and I've got a lot of work to do. This project I'm working on for--”

Tony cut him off. “Don't worry about it, I've got you covered. I bought you a bathing suit and you deserve a day off, anyway. Look, I want to make up for that day you had to come home early from the lake with your mom. I know I can't make up for your childhood, but let me at least try.”

Bruce frowned but relented. “You've gotta let me pick the radio station, though.”

***

He picked classic rock, which made Tony want to lift him right off the ground in a giant hug, but he restrained himself. He was getting so sick of restraining himself lately. For the two hour drive they talked and laughed and sang along to The Rolling Stones and Creedence Clearwater Revival. By the time they pulled into the parking lot beside the lake, Tony felt like they were definitely besties.

They grabbed their bags of towels and food from the backseat and walked down to a shady spot on the grass near the water's edge where the rest of the gang were already there, lounging on towels in their bathing suits. Tony saw disappointment flicker on Bruce's face even as he waved to the others.

“I thought it was going to be... you know, just the two of us,” he said quietly. 

“Oh... uh...” Tony was taken aback. He had just assumed that Bruce would want to hang out with everyone. “Well, next special thing we do – because there'll be more, trust me – it'll be just the two of us,” he assured him, silently kicking himself for spoiling the opportunity to have alone time together.

They dropped off their bags and headed for the change rooms, where Tony handed Bruce his new swim trunks. 

“Green,” he said, rolling his eyes, “of course. Thanks.”

***

The water was freezing. Clint, who had jumped right in without hesitation and was already swimming out into the middle of the lake, turned and hollered, “Hurry up, ya pussy!” to Tony as he stood, wet up to his waist, cringing every time he took a step and the water lapped higher.

“I'll get there, just give me a min--”

Suddenly, he felt two pairs of hands on his back and he was pushed into the cold water. Yelling obscenities, he turned and saw Bruce and Steve waist-deep in the water, both doubled over laughing. 

“Oh yeah? You think you're gonna get away with that?” Ignoring Steve, because there was only one guy on his mind, he leaped playfully at Bruce and grabbed him in a mock choke hold, wrestling him into the water.

“Stop!” Bruce shouted, laughing, but Tony dragged him further in and dunked his head under.

“Leave him alone. Sheesh, why do guys have to be so brutal?” Natasha complained as she stepped gingerly past Steve, who promptly threw her, shrieking, into the water.

Now there was a big splash war going on, and Thor jumped in, too, his long hair fanning out on the surface of the lake, to get in on the action. Bruce tried to dunk Tony, but he wasn't strong enough.

“Don't try to use my own move on me,” Tony chided as Bruce put him in a choke hold, “it'll never work.” He pushed him under the water again, and when he came up, sputtering, all he could do was splash Tony in revenge.

Everyone was laughing and having more fun even than the little kids who played and swam nearby. It had been a great idea to come here: now Bruce would have a great new memory to go along with the old. 

Bruce stopped laughing and splashing to nudge Tony's ribs under the water, which was up to their nipples where they stood, “Hey, look.”

He nodded toward Clint, further out in the water where he had been swimming alone. Now, Natasha was out there with him, and she had her arms around his neck.

“They're looking awfully lovey-dovey.”

Tony nodded, not speaking. He was jealous – not of Clint, but of the fact that they could just do that and, aside from being a bit eyebrow-raising, it was no big deal. He knew it would be a big deal if he and Bruce were doing anything like that. Or if the group knew that they had shared a bed. 

Without really thinking, he reached out and put his hand on Bruce's chest. Bruce grabbed his hand, almost reflexively, as if to push it away, but instead he held it there. They stood, looking into each other's eyes, until Thor came and pushed them both under. 

***

“Okay, which joker invited Pepper?” Tony hissed. 

They were back on the shore, basking in the heat of the afternoon on their beach towels and drinking lemonade that Steve had brought, and Pepper was approaching in an extremely tiny black polka-dot bikini.

“I did,” Natasha said, shrugging her shoulders. “I didn't want to be the only woman with all you wild and crazy men.”

“Well, Pepper and I are broken up,” Tony said venomously.

“Yeah, I know. She's here to hang out with me, not you.”

But she didn't appear to be there for Natasha, as she strolled right over to Tony where he was drying off. 

“Hey, you,” she said, eyeing him up and down with a sly look. “Looks like you went swimming without me.”

“Pepper,” he motioned for her to follow as he moved out of earshot of the others, “This is really not a good time for awkward conversations between exes – this is supposed to be a fun memory-making day for Bruce – so why don't you and Natasha just go do your own thing? You know, get manicures or do yoga, something ladies like to do.”

“Tony,” she put her hand on his chest in just the same way he had done in the water, “I miss you. I don't know why, but... look, all you have to do is apologize for your ridiculous jealousy and I'll take you back.”

“ _Me_ apologize?” He glared at her. “You're the one who brought a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to my home! I'm not going to --”

He stopped himself. She sure looked sexy in that little bikini. Now that he was feeling it again, he realized he had missed the feeling of her soft hands on his skin. And... well... she looked sexy, what else mattered? Maybe he _would_ apologize.

He pushed back her blond hair, tucking it behind her ear, and brushed his hand over her cheek. “Pepper, I...”

Then something made him look to where the rest of the group was sitting a few feet away on the grass, a feeling like he was being watched. Sure enough, Bruce was looking at them, the beads of water on his shoulders and chest glistening in the sun, a sad little smile of resignation on his face. He had to go to him.

“I'm sorry, Pepper, I can't talk right now; I told Bruce I'd sit with him.”

He went quickly back to the group and sat on his knees on the grass behind his best friend, placing his hands on those wet shoulders. “I've been wanting to do this for a while now,” he said, beginning to massage the tight muscles, ignoring Clint's chuckle and the look of shocked amusement on his face. “You're so tense, you really gotta loosen up, little buddy.”

Bruce turned his head as much as he could and looked up at him. “Don't you want to talk to Pepper? It looks like she wants to make up.” 

Tony leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “You're the one that I want.”

Bruce smiled shyly and closed his eyes. He looked like he was in a trance as he relaxed and let Tony rub all the tension from his body.

The ride home was just as wonderful as the ride to the lake had been. And this time, Tony made it last the full three hours.


	8. Don't Feed the Animals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Tony shenanigans, and Bruce is being a bit of tease ;)

Dr. Goldstein had told Bruce that, since he was able to talk about the abuse openly now, he didn't need to use hypnotism anymore. That was a relief to Tony, who couldn't stand to see the pain on his buddy's face anymore. He hadn't been hulking out lately either, but he continued the regular therapy each week just to be sure. He went on his own now, since Tony wasn't allowed in the room anyway.

One day he came home from a therapy session looking distraught. As soon as he saw him, Tony jumped up from the living room couch, where he was playing a car race video game with Rhodey, and stood in front of him, his hands on Bruce's arms, trying to get him to make eye contact.

“What's up, what happened?”

Rhodey glanced over briefly and called out, “I'm kicking your ass here, man, you better make it quick.”

“Rhodey, I don't care about the fucking game,” he called back, then said quietly to Bruce, still trying to catch his eye, “Do you want to go somewhere and talk? My room?”

He nodded, murmuring, “Sure, Tony.” He didn't look up to meet his gaze.

“We'll be right back,” Tony said, slapping Rhodey on the shoulder. “Don't kick my ass too hard.”

He knew how it must look, the two of them headed for his bedroom, but he didn't care. All that mattered was making sure Bruce was okay.

“What's wrong?” he asked, shutting the door.

Before answering, Bruce threw himself against Tony's chest, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning his head on the strong protective shoulder. “It's just... talking about all the hard stuff,” he whispered. “Sometimes I think I'm so fucked up I'll never be okay.”

There were no sobs or whimpers, but Tony could feel the tears soaking through his t-shirt. “No,” he said softly, holding him close. “You're doing so much better now. You're working so hard on this; I'm really proud of you, Brucey.”

Bruce looked up at Tony with wide eyes, never the loosening the iron grip he had on him. “You mean that?” he said, incredulous. “You're... p-proud of me?” He stumbled over the word, as if it was so hard to believe that he could barely bring himself to say it. Tony could tell he'd just made his day.

“Of course I mean it,” he answered. “Look, that day at the lake was so awesome, and I really want to make more happy memories for you. _With_ you. Just the two of us this time. When's the last time you went to a movie?”

“God, I don't know. It's been a long time.”

“Then that's what we'll do. Tonight!”

Bruce's face brightened as he pulled out of the tight hug. “Alright!” he said, smiling. “Tony, has anyone told you you're a really good friend?”

Tony grinned. “I think Rhodey did once, but he's probably about to take that back. I kinda just ditched him with the Xbox.”

Bruce laughed. “Yeah, he must be wondering what the hell we're doing in the bedroom with the door closed. Probably thinks we're making out.”

“Then maybe we should prove him right?” Tony grabbed his hips and gently tugged him closer.

Bruce, obviously thinking he was joking, just laughed again and pulled away.

***

They decided on a horror movie called _The Witch._

“You scared?” Tony teased as they sat down. “It's supposed to be piss-your-pants freaky.”

“Of course I'm not scared.” Bruce munched on some popcorn as he spoke. “I'm sitting next to Iron Man, aren't I? I may have been half Hulk when you said it, but I still remember you promised to always protect me, and I'm holding you to that.”

Tony smiled and moved to put his arm around his friend's shoulder, but withdrew it when Bruce flinched and sucked in a quick breath. 

“Sorry, Tony,” he said sheepishly. “I don't mind you doing that, really. It's just a reflex. I always feel like you're... you know... gonna hit me.”

“I'd never hit you,” Tony said. “You know that, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know; you're my best friend, I trust you. Maybe just warn me before you touch me, or go slow at least.”

“Got it, no sudden moves.”

“Here,” Bruce held out the popcorn bag, “have some. It's really good.”

“No way, I don't eat that crap.” Tony waved the bag away.

“Oh, come on, it's just popcorn. At least try it.” 

“Brucey, that is literally drenched in butter. I make it a rule not to eat anything coated in liquid fat.”

Bruce took a kernel anyway and shoved it against Tony's lips, saying, “Just _one_.”

Tony allowed him to pop the kernel in, then stuck his tongue out and playfully licked Bruce's hand before he could pull away.

“Gross,” Bruce chuckled. But he immediately got another piece of popcorn from the bag to feed Tony.

This time Tony managed to get Bruce's index finger in his mouth along with the popcorn and he gave it a long, slow suck, feeling it with his tongue. Bruce made a short moaning sound -- “unh” -- and shut his eyes for a moment and bit his lip. Tony could hardly bare that look of ecstasy on his face. He felt like a kid who had just discovered the joy of pushing an interesting button, and he wanted to push it again and again. 

“Aren't you going to offer me another one?” he asked.

“Nope.” Bruce dug his hand into the popcorn bag and stuffed a handful into his own mouth. “I forgot,” he said as he chewed, “I saw a sign outside that said, 'Please Don't Feed the Animals.'”

As the lights went down and the movie began, Tony leaned in and whispered, “Can I put my arm around you?”

Bruce smiled at him. “Yeah.”

This time, since he was expecting it, he didn't flinch, and Tony kept his arm around his best pal for the entire movie.

***

They had walked to the movie theatre, which was only a few blocks from Stark Tower, and on the way home they walked with their arms around each other like drunken frat boys, laughing and jostling each other. Tony liked how Bruce was a little bit shorter than him, which meant he just had to lean his head to the side and his cheek would be resting on those soft brown curls. As they walked, he thought, _What a freakin' adorable guy he is. And he finally trusts me enough to let me get close._ He realized now that he had been right in his earlier impression that Bruce needed to be taken care of. Now that he saw Tony as a protector and not another violent man that could hurt him, he was happy and sweet and cuddly.

“So the movie really scared you, huh?” Bruce asked, grinning, elbowing Tony's side hard enough to make him yelp before wrapping his arm back around his waist.

“What the hell are you talking about? I don't get scared.”

“I felt you jump, Tony, _so_ many times. Now that we're BFF's you can admit it: Tony Stark's a 'fraidy cat.”

“That's it,” he put him in a headlock and ruffled his hair, “when we get home I'm gonna beat your ass.” Then, realizing that Bruce had stopped laughing and there was a heavy silence, he corrected himself, “I mean... I'm gonna get you in the boxing ring and show you who's a 'fraidy cat.”

Bruce seemed to like that idea better.

***

Back at Stark Tower, Tony could see that Bruce was still in a playful mood, so he dragged and pushed him into the boxing ring while Bruce, laughing, fought to get free.

“Now, let's get our gloves on and settle this,” Tony said in a mock threatening voice.

“No!” Bruce giggled, grabbing Tony around the waist and tackling him to the floor of the ring.

It wasn't hard for Tony to flip himself over and get on top, pinning Bruce on his back and holding him down by the arms. He suddenly noticed that he was breathing hard even though he wasn't putting in much effort, and he felt the blood rushing to his pelvis where it was lined up perfectly with Bruce's. He couldn't resist one small thrust of his hips. Oh God, that felt good. And there was no way Bruce didn't feel it, but he was just looking silently up at Tony, letting himself be pinned there.

“God, Tony,” he breathed, and Tony felt him arch up to thrust briefly as he had done where their bodies met. Then, just as easily as he had been pinned, he wrestled Tony off and jumped up, grinning. “Gotcha!” he laughed. “You let your guard down!”


	9. Falling Down Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bruce are about to have a minor setback... but, don't worry! There's still one more chapter to go, and they are def gonna get all snugly and kissy and cute. Yes, that's right, the next chapter is the last, but I have other ideas I hope to get started on soon or maybe even right away, so check back if you like this kinda stuff :)

“Come on, Bruce, you have to come!” Tony whined.

It was Happy's birthday and he was having a party at Lavo nightclub. Tony couldn't wait to go dance and act stupid and get falling-down drunk, but if Bruce wouldn't go with him... well, then what was the point? Sure, he wanted to celebrate with Happy, but he would probably end up with Tony Stark groupie chicks hanging all over him the whole night, when what he really wanted hanging all over him was Bruce.

“Come on, you never just chill out and have a beer with us, Brucey.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Bruce said sarcastically, “that's exactly why you guys are going to a huge, exclusive dance club with a DJ and a bouncer turning away the undesirables – so you can chill out and have _a_ beer. Admit it, you're gonna get shit-faced and dance on the bar and puke your guts out and maybe fuck some hot girl in the bathroom. Oh, and by the way, I'm one of those undesirables they turn away at the door. I mean, they'd let me in if I was with you, but honestly, I'm not the Lavo type.”

“So that's why you don't want to go, because you think the bouncer wouldn't want you there? Fuck that, you're with Iron Man. And you're hotter than anyone in that place, anyway. Can I hug you, by the way? You're just looking so darn cute with your hair like that.”

Bruce, who's hair was still messy from sleep, didn't answer that last question but stepped out of his reach, purposefully smoothing his curls and looking exasperated. “No, that's not it, Tony. That's part of it, but really it's just not my thing. I don't even drink and I don't like to be around it.”

Tony thought he saw him wince a little as he said it, almost imperceptibly. He decided not to keep pressuring him, but to instead just go and have a good time like he would have before he started wanting his little buddy to be always around.

***

“What do you think?” Tony was dressed in a tight camo t-shirt, leather jacket, jeans, and high-top sneakers. He slid on a pair of sunglasses to complete the look. “Fuckin' sexy, right?”

Bruce looked at him, then looked away quickly, dropping his eyes with a bashful smile that was nearly a blush. “Yeah... yeah, you do look... fuckin' sexy, Tony,” he stammered, nodding vigorously at the floor. “You don't really need the sunglasses, though, right? I mean, it's nighttime.”

Tony snorted. “See, that's why I'm the cool one. It's fashion, baby. Fashion before function.”

Bruce chuckled, looking everywhere but at him. “Well, the chicks are gonna love you. I mean, that's what you're after, right?”

“Uuummm, not really.” 

His friend let out a little puff of air that was not quite a laugh and pawed at the floor with one foot. Tony reached over, careful to go slow as he'd been instructed at the movie theatre, and took Bruce's chin in his hand, gently forcing his head up to look him in the eye.

“Did you hear what I said, bro? I said, 'Not really.' I know you know me as a player, but there are things that are more important to me now. _You_ are more important to me now. You got that?”

Bruce, looking a little stunned, nodded silently. He went to bed before Tony left.

***

It had been a fantastic night. True, it had taken some effort to keep the ladies at bay, but he had done his best to send them all in Happy's direction – he was the birthday boy after all – and Happy had subsequently left the club with a woman on each arm and looking very... well... _happy_. 

Tony was nicely drunk, too. Just drunk enough that he couldn't figure out how to use his Visa to pay for the cab home. Just drunk enough that he had to yell at J.A.R.V.I.S. to “just open the goddamn door” because his finger wouldn't hit the scanner properly to get his print and unlock it. Just drunk enough that he fell three times on the way up to his floor. And just drunk enough that he took off one shoe and forgot to take off the other until he had walked lopsided through two rooms and a hallway. Okay, he was shit-faced, just like Bruce had said he would be.

And, as luck would have it, because Tony considered it very lucky in that moment and in that happy state to get to lay eyes on his favourite guy in the world, his BFF was awake and sitting on a stool in the kitchen in his pyjamas with a mug of tea in his hands.

“Waitin' up for me?” Tony said, teetering a bit in the doorway.

“Oh, hey Tony.” Bruce hopped off the stool and put his mug in the sink. “No, I just couldn't sleep. Had a nightmare. I'm going back to be now, though, so g'night.” 

“Wait!” Tony stumbled into the room, a little more frantically than he meant to. “Don't go t' bed yet,” he slurred. “I missed you, I wanna see you.”

He shook his head. “No, no, it's the middle of the night and you're drunk, so...” He leaned casually against the counter as he spoke, but he looked stressed.

“Whatsa matter?” Tony went and leaned against the counter too. “We haven' seen each other _alllll_ night, don' you wanna talk to me? I didn' fuck anyone, if tha's what you're worried about.” 

He leaned over a little too far and his elbow knocked into a heavy vase behind him, which fell to the floor and shattered with an incredible crash. Bruce jumped and squeezed his eyes shut tight, but only for a second. Then he sprang into action, shouting, “Sorry, I'll clean that up!” with an almost crazed eagerness, and ran for a broom.

“Huh? You didn' do it, though. Why are you ssorry?” Tony slurred. “Don' clean it up.” He grabbed the broom from his hand and sent it clattering noisily to the floor. “J.A.R.V.I.S.'ll clean it up. Tha's his _job_.” 

Bruce swallowed hard and took a step backward. “'Kay, I'm gonna go to bed now. You should probably go to bed, too.”

“Uh-uh, I'm hungry.” Tony tried to hoist himself up onto the counter, stepping into an open drawer for leverage and snickering. “There's fuckin' cereal waaaay up there. It's really, really, _really_ far away.”

“Oh, god, Tony, don't climb up there, you're gonna hurt yourself!” Bruce got behind him and tugged gently to pull him down. “Jus-just let me get the cereal,” he stuttered nervously, “you just wait down here.”

He climbed up himself and procured the box of cereal and poured a bowl for Tony with almond milk. 

“Holy shit, you are the bessst.” Tony took one bite then abandoned his snack and backed Bruce, who stepped backward each time Tony took a step toward him, against a wall, steadying himself as he wobbled with a hand pushed flat against the wall on either side of his friend. “Have I ever told you how much I fuckin' love you? I love you, bro. Tha's all I could even think about tonight, jus' how fuckin' great that Bruce Banner is.”

“Tony,” he slid down the wall about an inch, his obvious discomfort lost on Tony in his drunken state, “please don't do this. I just want to go to bed.” His voice cracked and he gave a pleading look that Tony misinterpreted, along with his words, as being absolutely meaningless. He tended to lose all insight when he drank this much.

“Here, lemme give you something.” He stumbled to the kitchen island, completely incapable of walking straight, determined to give Bruce something in exchange for getting him the bowl of cereal, which he still hadn't eaten but felt was somehow the nicest thing anyone had ever given him. “I wan' you t' try a dragon fruit.”

“What? Tony, I don't want to try any pointy fruit, it's the middle of the night and I'm exhausted and you're drunk. Can I please just go to bed?” Bruce did appear tired, but at the same time his eyes were very large and watchful, so Tony ignored him again. 

“You'll love this!”

He reached for the fruit bowl with a swing of his arm, but managed to knock everything else off the island in the process: several dishes and a few magazines -- _Lazy ass J.A.R.V.I.S_ , Tony thought – and two glass candle holders. It was a very loud accident, with plenty of breaking glass and porcelain and thuds as the magazines hit the floor. 

“Whoops,” Tony said, surveying the damage. But when he looked to where Bruce had been standing, he saw that he wasn't there anymore. “Brucey, buddy, where'd you go?”

He circled the island and saw him, on the other side, sitting on the floor against the wall with his knees to his chest and his hands over his head, looking like he was making himself as small as he could manage, like he could make himself so small he would disappear.

“Bruce?”

“Please don't hurt me,” he whimpered, his body tightening into a smaller little ball of pyjamas and messy hair. “I'll be good, I promise. I'm sorry I made you mad.”

Tony felt his heart break even harder than it had in the therapy sessions. He wanted to throw his arms around the little guy, but he knew he had to take it slow, especially now when he thought he was mad, when he thought – _Oh, god_ – that Tony had purposely knocked all that stuff off the counter because he was so furious at him. He knelt down as slowly as he could, which was hard when he was drunk and stumbly, and put out his hand very, very slowly. Bruce sucked in his breath and whimpered loudly. 

“I'm not gonna hit you,” Tony whispered, “see? Look at my hand. I'm jus' gonna touch your hair. Jus' to show you I'm not mad. I swear I'm not even a li'l bit mad.”

He waited for Bruce to look at the hand hovering near his face, which he did, fearfully and expectantly, waiting for the blow he still seemed sure was coming, murmuring again that he would be good. Then he touched his hair, his face, his neck, keeping his hand soft. 

“I know I scared you, I know,” he soothed, feeling very sober all of a sudden. “Oh, god, Brucey, I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry.”


	10. On Bruce's Terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last chapter. Sorry it took a couple days for me to get to it. The boys get a little sexy, which can't be a bad thing, right? So, enjoy! :)

Tony woke up to the pale light of dawn pushing against his closed eyelids. His bed felt warmer than usual, and strangely closed in, like there were walls on either side of him, or like the blankets were piled up really high on one side. He tugged on the duvet to straighten it out, but it was caught on something and didn't move. That's when he listened and heard the light breath of someone sleeping peacefully beside him. 

He didn't even have to open his eyes, just rolled toward the sound, nudged a bare elbow out of his way, and tucked his arm happily around Bruce's middle. With the way things had gone last night, he was even more surprised than he otherwise would have been to find him in his bed, and even more ecstatic, too. He curled his body snugly around the body of his friend -- whom he now realized was wearing only boxers, not the pyjamas he had had on a mere couple of hours ago in the kitchen -- pleased that Bruce would still seek comfort in his bed on the very night he had behaved like such a drunken fool.

He put his face against the damp brown curls – not damp from sweat, but freshly showered, smelling sweetly of shampoo – murmuring, “God, Bruce, what are you doing to me?” 

“Huh?” Bruce responded, groggy and hoarse. 

“Mmmm, you're awake.” Tony didn't move from his position as human blanket, even though he knew his erection could easily be felt, and Bruce didn't try to move either. “Tell me something, Brucey.”

“Hmm?”

“What made you spaz last night? Was it because I was drunk?”

There was a slight movement of the head that may have been a nod. “You never know what someone's gonna do when they're drunk.”

“True,” Tony squeezed him tighter, “but not entirely. With some people, you can know what they're _not_ going to do. I'm not going to hurt you when I'm drunk, Bruce.”

Tony was almost asleep again when, after a long silence, the voice next to him lamented, “I can't believe I freaked out like that, I'm such an idiot.”

“Hey,” Tony mumbled, trying to wake up again, “at least you didn't _hulk_ out. Freak out is just fine, babe.” Without thinking and with his only motivation being a nice punctuation for the end of his sentence, he raised his head and placed a small kiss on Bruce's neck, and felt him immediately freeze. 

He didn't let go but didn't try for a second kiss either. Maybe nothing beyond this would ever happen between them, but he didn't even care. Well, maybe he cared a bit; it had been a couple of months since he'd had any action, maybe the longest he'd ever been. But lying next to Bruce, holding him, reassuring him, making him feel safe, that was what he wanted most of all. They slept till noon.

***

“I'm making it up to you,” Tony announced that evening.

“What are you talking about?” Bruce looked up from the equations on his holographic screen, confused by these simple words in a way he never seemed to be by complex formulas.

“Coming home drunk last night, smashing things, scaring the shit out of you. I'm sorry, and I'm making it up to you tonight, right now. I have a surprise for you, follow me!”

He dragged a flustered Bruce out of the lab by his arm and into the living room where a large box sat on the coffee table, wrapped in shiny green paper and a big green bow.

“Does everything you give me have to be green?” Bruce asked, eyeing the card. “'To my BFF, from me. You know who I am.' Cute, Tony.”

Slowly, (a bit suspiciously, Tony thought), he unwrapped his present. Inside were beakers, Bunsen burners, pH test paper, safety goggles, and vials of chemicals: Cadmium sulfate, Pyridine, and many others. 

“I know you already have all this stuff,” Tony explained, “I just wanted to make you--”

“A chemistry set!” Bruce interrupted, his face lighting up. “You made me a chemistry set just like the one I got for my seventh birthday. Although I doubt my kiddie set included Chloroform. I love it, Tony, you totally rock!”

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged. “But wait till you see what else I have for you.”

“There's more? Wait a minute, you know it's not actually my birthday, right?”

“Just follow me to the kitchen. I'm making another good memory for you, okay? So don't question it. And close your eyes, too.”

In the kitchen, Tony sat him down on a stool and placed the surprise in front of him. 

“Okay, open your eyes.”

It was a chocolate cake, Tony had made it himself. He watched as Bruce's eyes welled up with tears and he took a deep breath to hold them back.

“Your special day got ripped away from you, so I'm giving it back.”

“How did you even get time to go buy all that stuff and then get back here and bake a fucking amazing cake?”

Tony shrugged. “I wore the suit,” he said, matter-of-factly.

***

He should have known that when it happened, it would happen on Bruce's terms, as had been the case with nearly every hug, cuddle, and reassuring touch up to that point. 

Several days passed with nothing more than a very close friendship. Tony woke each morning searching the bed with his hand, hopeful that Bruce might have crawled in with him during the night, but he was never there. They spent their days together, and each time Bruce spoke, Tony had to fight himself to keep from staring at those gorgeous lips. At night he found himself thinking with a pounding heart about what he had seen the morning after his drunkenness: Bruce got out of bed that day in his tight red boxer briefs, and he had memorized the entire amazing shape of his body.

Then, one evening Tony invited Steve and Clint over to watch a soccer game. The four of them were in the living room eating snacks; Tony and Clint were having beers, but Tony was sticking to just one or two, since he had promised Bruce he would definitely not get drunk.

“Tony, don't you have a jersey?” Clint asked. “I thought you had a Messi jersey. You should be wearing it right now, man!”

Tony agreed, since he felt like being a little silly – he would never seriously wear a _jersey_ unless he was actually playing a sport – and went to his room to find it. He had just taken off his shirt when he felt someone's eyes on him. Turning, he saw Bruce in the doorway, leaning casually on the frame and staring at him.

“Like what you see?” Tony joked.

Bruce ignored the question. “Hey, Tony,” he began, slowly, with a sheepish look on his face, “you remember when we were in bed last week? Remember you... uh... _kissed_... my neck?”

Tony smiled. “Yeah, sorry about that. You know me, I can't keep my hands and mouth off anything if it's both half-naked _and_ in my bed.”

He smiled too, but looked slightly disappointed. “Oh, yeah, I, uh, I figured that was it.” He turned to leave.

“No, wait! Why? I mean, was there something you were going to ask, or...?”

“Well...” Bruce turned and came into the room. He ducked his head shyly and mumbled something.

“What?”

When Tony moved closer to him, he looked up and blurted, as if he had to get it out before he could convince himself it was too risky, “I was hoping you'd wanna do it again.” Then stood there with a fragile expression like he was just waiting to be rejected.

 _Oh, so that's why he's being all stuttery and cute,_ Tony thought. He tried to be cool about it, but he couldn't suppress his smile as he stood over Bruce and put his arms around him, gently pulling him closer. “All I want,” he said, looking into those soft brown eyes, “is to do that again.” He pushed his lips to the lips he had been longing for, holding the kiss only briefly. “And again... and again,” he continued, planting another kiss each time.

Bruce, too stunned to kiss back, just sighed. With relief, rather than passion, Tony thought. But how could he not have known Tony felt the same way? He chuckled, he would have to help him see how desirable he was.

He kissed him again, this time pushing his tongue past Bruce's lips and reaching down to unbutton his purple shirt. And this time, Bruce kissed back but pulled away before it was finished.

“What about the guys?” he said, breathing heavily, meaning Steve and Clint who were still in the living room. 

“Fuck 'em.” Tony went and swung the door shut, bringing Bruce with him, not wanting to take his hands off him. He finished unbuttoning the shirt and pulled it off with such desperation he nearly pulled his friend's arm out of joint. “Oh, God, Brucey, you are so sexy I can barely stand living in the same house as you. I've been wanting you all this time.”

“I'm s--”

Tony cut him off with another kiss, which he immediately returned. “And don't you dare say you're sorry, Banner, it's a fucking compliment.”

Bruce moaned and threw his arms around Tony, this time acting as the aggressor himself, as if he'd finally been given permission, kissing him desperately and clawing at his back. Tony pushed his hand through the messy hair, grabbing a handful and tugging, gently but with an urgent passion. “Lay down on the bed,” he whispered as their lips unlocked, not sure what he was going to do next but just saying what he felt in the moment.

Bruce lay down obediently, looking up with expectation and need. There was another side to him that usually remained below the surface, Tony realized as he looked down at those kissable parted lips, the muscular chest heaving with each panting breath – he was usually so cute and endearing, but he could be incredibly sexy, too, as he was now.

“I want you so bad, Tony,” he breathed, sounding like he meant it, like he could barely contain himself.

Tony layed down on top of him, kissing his mouth and his neck, grabbing his hair, and rocking his hips against him. Bruce reached down and started undoing Tony's pants. But suddenly, they both froze.

The door had opened.

“Holy shit, Stark, what the hell are you doing to Banner?” Clint cackled and had to hold himself up on Steve's arm to keep from falling over laughing.

Steve just stared, horrified.

Tony looked down at Bruce. He had a hand over his eyes and looked extremely embarrassed. He decided the only thing to do was to be a smart ass – there was no way to pretend they weren't up to what the guys thought they were up to. “Jeez, guys, don't look so shocked.” He smiled. “I thought you already knew what goes on in this bedroom. Well, you better learn to knock, because this is literally the only reason I ever come in here.”

He sat up and offered a hand to Bruce, who still looked shaken.

“Can we just please pretend we didn't see anything?” said Clint, turning away and shaking his head. “And can you guys not sneak off to fuck while you have company? That's just poor etiquette.”

“Don't worry,” Bruce whispered as he put on his shirt, “we can continue making _this_ good memory tonight. Sleepover in your room, right?”

Tony smiled, amused and pleased to see Brucey take control. Maybe the therapy was helping. Thankfully, bedtime wasn't too far off.

And this time, there were no distractions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read all this. I loved seeing all the comments and kudos. Please let me know what you thought, and if you liked it keep an eye out for my next thing, which I hope to get started on soon!


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